


Untitled One-Shot

by sabriel75



Series: what I haven't written yet meme [2]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, Cuddling and Snuggling, Hugs, Hurt/Comfort, Loneliness, M/M, Strangers, Teenagers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-15
Updated: 2011-12-15
Packaged: 2017-10-27 08:47:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 886
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/293892
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sabriel75/pseuds/sabriel75
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Arthur runs away, all the way to the apple orchards where he accidentally meets a boy and possibly falls in love. If only he could remember.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Untitled One-Shot

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Nympha_Alba](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nympha_Alba/gifts).



Arthur's tired of feeling penned in and stuck in this rut of being shuffled between nana and tutors and knights – who knock him about with a sword – like he's a squire and not the crown prince, and so he's decided to run away. 

Surely father will pay attention if he does. 

However, he's only made it to the castle orchards and the wall surrounding him seems too high to scale, plus he forgot rope and a grappling hook. He'd actually thought, maybe... one of the guards would let him sneak out of the side gated door to the lower town if he could use a manly enough voice. 

There's no one around though, or at least, no one who can help him.

The boy’s definitely stealing apples, and it’s just Arthur’s luck to run away in Camelot’s greatest time of need. He sighs and hefts his sword, which he of course remembered, even though sneaking past Gaius was tricky and required him to be very, very stealthy. That’s hard to do when his sword’s nearly as tall as him and catches on  _everything_  and so very heavy, and Arthur lets out another put upon sigh before trying to unsheath it. He’s nearly got it too when he feels himself being watched.

Damn.

“Stop thief,” Arthur commands, and the boy looks at him, a bit stupidly Arthur thinks, and then realizes the look’s for him given the boy was just standing there watching him.

“You’re not allowed to take these apples, you know… they belong to Camelot’s royalty,” Arthur goes on, ignoring the way the boy’s lips tilt up and smirk.

“Truly?” he says, sketching a mocking bow at Arthur before falling into a graceful acrobatic tumble that lands him right in front of Arthur. He jumps to his feet, quick and nimble, and asks cheekily, “And who’s going to stop me from taking them? You, your lordship?” His hands, suddenly full of three red apples, that he juggles with ease while grinning smarmily in Arthur’s face.

“Yes!” Arthur replies heatedly, his heart beating wildly in his chest, but he takes a step forward and points the sharp point of his blade at the boy, not touching him with it, just threatening. “I arrest you, as Crown Prince of Camelot, and for stealing  _my apples_.” At this pronouncement, the boy’s eyes finally widen with something, not respect Arthur notices though, and he’s about to shove him with the sword when the boy executes the most perfect of court bows.

“Sire, I had no idea,” he says, and the laughter’s there in his lilting tone and the stiff mockery of his stance, and how his words even deny Arthur his due. 

How could anyone not know their Crown Prince?! 

And the stance looks all wrong on him. Courtly manners and deference do not fit on his gangly limbs, his easy-going frame or mischievously, yet oh so innocent face. Arthur notices this and his clothes, which hang too loose, threadbare and not enough to keep out the cold chill of the air. He lowers his sword with yet another put upon sigh and offers, “Go on, you can have them.”

The boy does. He bites into an apple while rubbing another against his shirt, shining until it nearly glows red in the moonlight. He holds it out to Arthur, his lip catching on his teeth as he chews fast and messily, like he might not eat another thing for many days. And he mightn’t Arthur thinks pitifully. 

He shakes his head when the boy shoves the apple towards him again, “No, you take it with you… go on. You’ve got to leave before the guards catch you.” Arthur steps forward, intending to push the boy towards the gate or the wall or… “How’d you get in here?”

“You’ll never know, sire,” the boy answers and Arthur wants to argue that he’s an idiot for coming in the first place, but the boy’s surprisingly fast because he manages to hug Arthur around the waist, pull him closer than even before – when he did his acrobats – to reveal to Arthur the bluest pair of eyes he’s ever seen. 

And yeah, so maybe Arthur’s felt too alone for too long and leans into the hug – the feel of it, enchanting and comforting and warm. Here with this boy, he feels safe and real, like he matters. He wonders aloud, “Can I keep you?” and hears the boy chuckle and reply, “No Arthur, you can’t.”

And Arthur might only have celebrated fourteen birth days, but he knows as he hugs the boy tight, tighter until they’re breathing into each other’s necks, that the swirly tumbling his stomach’s doing right now, because of this boy, is that swoony maidenly talk Nana loves to gossip about, and that for once, she’s right.

He can’t stop his heart toppling to his feet.

He pushes away and is about to say something, not certain what exactly, when he faints?

Arthur wakes up the next morning, grumpy and irate, and with the sensation he’s forgotten something important, as if he’s lost something special and that cannot be right, because for all his noble birth, Arthur’s never had anything that was his, only his to cherish, but his mother’s belongings. And not even his father knows he has those.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Canary to the Swallow (Persephone's Apples Remix)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/386128) by [qwerty](https://archiveofourown.org/users/qwerty/pseuds/qwerty)




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